


Technological Advancements

by 2trangerMcDanger



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humans, Humanstuck, M/M, Relationship Awkwardness, author doesnt know what a computer is, computershop au?, karkat doesnt know how relationships work at all, karkat's pov, like coffeeshop except...nevermind, or computers he doesnt know how computers work either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-01-03 15:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21181796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2trangerMcDanger/pseuds/2trangerMcDanger
Summary: Sollux sounds like he might just bury you alive if you describe your PC to him in any more detail. “Why don’t I just build you a new one?? I could get it done in less than a month and I’ll even give you a pity discount because I wouldn’t wish whatever chimera of parts you’ve been using on my worst enemy. And I have some pretty bad enemies, Karkat.”He sounds like he wants you to laugh, but you don't. Instead, you mumble, "You're about to have another," withvery little anger and he laughs a noncommital chuckle that makes you picture his face in your head.xxxDraft 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slkajsdlkfj this fic Isn't Good and I wrote it at like 2 am and it took two hours to write.  
this is another really self-indulgent work, but I hope you enjoy it!  


You slip on your ratty heavy coat, big stompy snow boots and the gloves with the holes in them before shoving your keys into your pocket and walking out into the cold winter air. The icy wind stabs at your lungs when you breathe it in and you quickly feel your ears seizing up in that special way that they do in the cold. It takes a couple of long minutes to get to your shitty car and you wait a little bit to stew in your suffering before turning it on and letting the heated air blow over your face.

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you need to go to the computer store today. Computers fascinate you in a love-hate kind of way. Sure, they’re cool, but you suck so hard at understanding them. You’ve tried building your own desktop before but it’s much harder than you thought it would be. And much more expensive. Your apartment is already pretty much as cheap as they come, and it shows. Obviously a 20-year old’s first independent place of living isn’t gonna be anything fancy, but you make do. So instead of building your own desktop from scratch, you’ve been slowly modifying and upgrading your current dinosaur that you’ve had since your dad was your age. And he’s extremely inept with technology.

Despite being adopted, you feel like you got that from him.

When you pull up to the small, locally-owned store, it’s not completely empty, a few cars parked in front, but you’re not sure you see anyone inside. This observation is supported when you actually enter, seeing only one employee stocking something in the very back, and someone else staring blankly at the wall in front of the register.

You have a very good idea of the part you need, and you’ve been doing research for weeks on it. You wrote down everything you feel that’s necessary and you’re ready to look for what you need to walk out of here as quickly as you walked in.

You have to awkwardly sidle by the employee in the back to carefully browse the parts all along the wall. He doesn’t catch your attention for very long, obviously, you’re not here for him, but he notices you and gives you this tired, annoyed expression.

“Finding everything okay?” He says, in a tone that very clearly says _Not that I care, but I’m being paid to ask_. You don’t answer immediately, intent on ignoring him, but his hands catch your eyes. Not in a weird way, though. His nails are painting bright red and blue, alternating each finger, almost florescent in color that contrasts against his dark skin.

He notices you’re general staring (probably not specifically where you’re staring) and flashes you a quick and polite wave of his hand, bringing you back to reality. “No, actually, this place is built like a nightmare. Can you help me find…” and you describe the part to him, in unnecessary detail, make and model like you’re talking about cars and not computer parts. The employee looks at you in a very obviously condescending way and says, “really? You want _that_ model?” A shiver goes up your spine as you bristle with offense. “_Yes_. That one.”

“Are you sure?” he persists, standing up now and you step back because, oh shit, he’s like 4 inches taller than you, and reaches up for something like the pictures you’ve seen online while researching.  
“This one is more recent and runs faster. I have it on my personal desktop that I’ve had for almost 5 years. The whole thing is constantly getting tune-ups, but I never have to switch this out.” As he talks, he holds up the piece and then hands it to you when he’s done.

You don’t want to take it, because you’re stubborn and taking help from someone feels like defeat, and the way he looks down on you (literally and figuratively) rubs you in so many wrong ways, you want to refuse his help out of _spite_. But the way he talks with such confidence is not only impressive, but it makes you jealous in a bitter, petty way.

“What makes you such an expert," you mutter, hardly a question, voice pushy like a toddler. You're well aware of how immature and stupid you're being.

“My night job is freelance tech engineering?” Wow, you hate his voice. And you hate the way he slurs and chops up his S sounds. It’s all really making you want to kick him in the nuts. But you can tell he’s not looking at you that way. He leaves all his emotions all over his face like he’s inviting you to read everything he’s thinking, like his forehead is an unlocked swinging door that occasionally slams into the frame because no one bothered to close it all the way and it’s windy outside, dammit.

He’s got this smile of endearment on him while he looks at your ever-growing pout/scowl combo as he gracefully reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card, and you take it, noting how he’s got more red and blue beaded bracelets on his wrist with plastic letter blocks that say “SNAIL EGG” and that makes you grimace in confusion.

The card has his name on it—Sollux Captor—phone number, email, and a few social media logos. Around the border is what looks like melted hexagons in deep yellowish-brown honey color with wires connecting them to the other side of the honeycombs.

You flick the card over to the back skeptically and are not impressed with it. Someone’s not very gifted in graphic design, you think to yourself. Your eyes flick up at him and he looks, almost excited, but in a way that also says he's proud of his dinky little business card and he's proud he gets to show it off, but he's pretending it's not a big deal.

“I gotta get back to work, but you can keep that. Give me a call if you find yourself lost in your own PC from the ’70s and can’t find your way out.” He says this in a way that sounds half psychic prediction and half-joking insult. And he spins around and walks away, disappearing behind an EMPLOYEES ONLY door.

The first thing you wanna do is rip that card up and throw it in your garbage disposal that’s been broken for 3 months, but you’re in a personal rush and settle with rolling your eyes so hard and shoving the card in your pocket, going to check out and leave ASAP.

xxx

A few days later, you’re working on your pile of shit computer. The tower is ripped open and wires and pieces and chunks of hot glue are everywhere, you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing and there’s not a single video on YouTube that’s helping you figure it out. The customer service line on the bottom of the casing has been rubbed away long ago if there ever was one.

While you’re ripping at a piece of crusty glue to try and get the last piece of hardware out of there, the image of that shitbag tech-loser from the store pops in your head and whatever you’re yanking snaps in half, and you actually scream out into your empty apartment. A beat passes while you look at the mess you’re sitting in and you audibly groan a deep rumble in your throat as you yank the card that was still in your coat pocket (not because you kept it for him, but because garbage like that tends to stay in your pockets)

You stare at the card for a long time, chewing the inside of your mouth and your lip as you fold the corners over and over, back and forth, debating. Do you really want to call him? Do you really want to hear his voice again? Maybe if you slept on it, you’ll figure out what the problem is. Maybe tomorrow you’ll find some magical missing piece hiding under your desk that makes everything make sense. Maybe—

You’re already dialing the number on your phone, making an annoyed face as if that would help, as if he could see it through the phone and know how much you didn’t want to have to do this.

“You’ve reached Captor-vating Circuitry,” he says, and you’re already bristling when you hear his voice. You scratch at his business card uselessly. “

Hey.” You start, and it sounds nervous for some reason. “It’s me. The guy from the store, a couple of days ago?” You’re just now realizing you didn’t tell him your name. He probably doesn’t remember you, “It’s fine if you don’t know, I have a question about—”

“Oh shit, really??” He laughs, language more casual than in the store, and you don’t just mean the word choice. “I was beginning to think you’d never call. Yeah, what’s up? How’s that piece working for you.”

You pull the phone away from yourself as you sigh, running your fingers through your thick and wavy hair. “I…haven’t been able to install it. I’m a little lost.” The tone in your voice is clearly that of defeat. Like calling your grandma to let her know the toy helicopter she bought you for Christmas broke 20 seconds after you turned it on as all toy helicopters do and you want her to buy you a new one.

He laughs at you a little bit, and makes fun of you a whole lot, berates you for calling him a know-it-all show off and how he "totally knew this would happen" and you take it, because you're desperate. Like if grandma was an absolute shitbag and wanted to rub your nose in your broken toy before taking you to get another one. 

After that, Sollux does an absolutely terrible job of trying to instruct you. Why the hell did you think he was easier to understand than tutorial videos??

He uses vague language, _put that one part in the other part—what do you mean it’s not there? All PCs have it, what brand are you using, are you fucking serious they stopped making that two decades ago where the fuck did you even find that_.

And the way you respond is not helpful either, you realize with hindsight. _Yes, I know, get off my dick already. No I don’t have that part, this part is being held up with duct tape and if I move it the entire thing will collapse—I can’t remove that piece because I superglued it in place in 2009—yes I’ve had it since then it works perfectly—FUCK OFF, OH MY GOD._

Eventually, you get there. You get from Point A to Point B, in what could only be described as a complete moron does a handstand and walks backward down a mountain, but he gets there.

Sollux sounds like he might just bury you alive if you describe your PC to him in any more detail. “Why don’t I just build you a new one?? I could get it done in less than a month and I’ll even give you a pity discount because I wouldn’t wish whatever chimera of parts you’ve been using on my worst enemy. And I have some pretty bad enemies, Karkat.”

You don’t remember when you told him your name, but you did, apparently. He sounds like he wants you to laugh, but you don't. Instead, you mumble "You're about to have another," with very little anger and he laughs a noncommital chuckle that makes you picture his face in your head. 

You’re sweaty for some reason, and your room is more of a mess than what it was before, but your computer is fixed at least. Sort of. “Yeah, I’ll take the pity discount…” You have that sound of defeat in your voice again, staring at your terrible piece of work that you didn’t know was so terrible until someone with an actual brain cell heard about it.

He lists off a whole laundry list of plans that you assume are for customers paying at full price (not you) and you pick the one that sounds like a dream come true, with lots of little features and things you like. Sollux says to meet him at a much bigger computer store and you can pick out a few things you want for cosmetic purposes and he’ll get to work.

xxx

You spend the next few weeks talking a whole lot with him. Mostly online or through text messages. Some of it is business, some of it not.

You learn that he’s really good at World of Warcraft and talks way too fondly of Sylvanas for it _not_ to be secretly thirsting for. You also learned that, Sylvanas thirsting aside, he does like dudes, and that he never shuts up about how he’s saving his money to fly to Sweden and get his tongue cut in half. You learned he’s not a very successful business owner and you’re his first customer in a while.

His personality becomes slightly less infuriating after time passes. You say slightly because he still makes you wanna wring him like nasty underwear but now it's funny. You talk more and more, starting from just a couple hours a day to almost every waking moment.

Eventually, he drives up to your doorstep, shakily holding a very heavy looking box and you help him bring it in.

Your new computer is gorgeous, and he takes you through all the magical inner workings of it as you help him set it up. How to open the tower and how everything is easily accessible if repairs are needed. And right on the side is a high-quality sticker slapped on of the logo that was on his business card. Which, as you figured, he’s very proud of, and doesn’t let you talk shit about, unfortunately

Sollux runs his hand over the top of the monitor, admiring his handiwork and you find yourself staring at him. The way he looks so satisfied with what he’s built is—you blink harshly and shake your head a little, slapping him on the back.

“It looks great,” the words leave you almost too casually, a tiny bit sad. And suddenly you’re hyper-aware of the question lingering in the air. _What now?_ You paid in advance, despite him insisting to wait until you saw the product to pay, but you counter-insisted.

“Do you…wanna still be friends?” As soon as you say it, you’re cringing at yourself. And you double cringe when he laughs.

“Did you think I was just pretending to hang out with you because you’re paying me? I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t think you were _that_ stupid.” He laughs as you punch him in the shoulder, his still painted hands going up in defense.

“Don’t give me that shit! I haven’t known you that long, how was I supposed to know what’s going on in your fucked-up head all the time, I just meant—I didn’t think—What do we do now, you know??”

“Why does that have to be a plan? Can’t we just hang out?” You hate the way he says it so obviously, so plain and clear. It makes your head feel hot as you continue to stammer over your words and try to justify your obviously stupid question and train of thought as if they weren’t literally the stupidest thing you’ve ever come up with to date.

He just laughs at you, the mousey little “heheheh” that makes his shoulders tense up and shake slightly. “This has got to be the most hilarious way I’ve ever been asked out.” He says, and it doesn’t make you as flustered as it probably should. It does make you go a little red and shrug pretty awkwardly.

It’s true, you’ve been pretty bad at masking your steadily growing crush on Sollux, and he’s been bad at discouraging you for doing so, despite that being standard protocol. In fact, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s been doing the opposite, flirting with you in a pretty laughable nonsensical way.

Like the time you called him a gay-slur as a joke and he said _you know, coming from you, I don’t mind as much._ And he kept calling you a homophobe just to get under your skin until you loudly came out to him over voice chat and he said _hmm, interesting_ really quietly away from the mic. Or the time he jokingly suggested to make you a friendship bracelet after you mercilessly mocked him for the ones he’s wearing, and when you refused, he said _what, guys can’t like guys?_ All smug and shitty, making it obvious that he was misconstruing your words. Or how every time you threaten him with some form of violence, he says _Promise?_ And laughs at your scream of frustrating at the 11th time he’s used that fucking line.

You get the point.

He’s not as awkward as you, probably because he’s had a couple of girlfriends in the past and you’ve had exactly 0 of anything or anyone outside of sad and pathetic crushes in school that ultimately amounted to nothing.

Regardless, the two of you make plans to meet up at a local coffee shop nearby (he learned you have a steadily growing in seriousness caffeine addiction) and as you walk him out the door, you stupidly stick your hand out for a handshake when he’s halfway outside. Sollux looks at you, and then your hand, and then back to you. The look on his face is very similar to what he gave you the first time you met, that 'are you serious?' kind of expression, but he takes your hand and shakes it firmly, leaving you to be embarrassed by how inept you are socially.

Your name is Karkat Vantas. And you have a date. With a boy. For the first time. Just don't fuck it up like you always do, dickwad.


	2. I Cant Trust the Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took a little longer than I thought. I had an idea, then changed it completely, didn't like that either, and then changed it again a third time. I hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t kidding when you said you had a steadily growing coffee addiction. Your brain refuses to get anything done when you don’t have any coffee in the morning. Driving is a shitty hassle, going to work is a shitty hassle, but calling people is also a shitty hassle so you suck it up and go.

You work at a factory, your entire job is to load and unload various trucks over and over all day because the stupid fuckers driving the trucks are too tired from driving all day. It’d be a lot more unbearable if it didn’t force you to build muscle for money. It’s all flabby undefined muscle anyway, not very impressive, but the job is like a gym membership that pays _you_ and it’s great in that regard. But the gym holds you by the throat and forces you to bench press for 8 hours and then pays you, not great in that regard. And it’s even worse when you _don’t have coffee_ to help you get through the first half at least, and it’s even

But you don’t want to be coffee’d out when you go on your date tonight, despite that definitely not being a thing that could ever happen in any conceivable way, but you continue sucking it up, because this date means a lot to you.

Neither you had a day off for another five days, so you have to still make regular friendship talk until then. You don’t call him the dreaded B-word to other people or to him out of general anxiety and also specific anxiety of him telling you that he’s not your boyfriend. Because he’s not, technically speaking. At least you don’t think so? Is that how boyfriends work? Do you acquire a boyfriend as soon as he agrees to go on a date with you or does the date have to go well and _then_ he’s your boyfriend?

You’re unclear how boyfriends work.

But you try your best to look nice, at least with the clothes you have. Your dad, though well-meaning, doesn’t know what clothes you like and you hate throwing things away. So you take the only black shirt you have that doesn’t have holes or bleach stains on it, and the only pair of pants that don’t have the cuffs nearly falling apart and massive holes in various places (only a few holes) and run your fingers through your clean hair. Your nails are usually black, just because you think it adds class, but you actually put time into them and didn’t leave them all chipped and chewed up for tonight.

You really dolled yourself up, tonight, didn’t you?

At home, coffee is strictly utilitarian. No sugar, no cream, just hot, black, in a chipped mug, down your throat to wake you up. But at your favorite café, you have no issue ordering the whitest girl bullshit complicated name with six pumps of whatever and a big puffy top of whipped cream. You’re confident in your masculinity, thank you very much.

You get your drink much fast than Sollux does, and you only take small sips while you wait for him to order. At first, he seems to be taking a long time, looking over the menu and you just sort of leave him to his devices. Then after ten minutes, you feel a little foot-tappy. It’s not that hard to order, is it? There are not that many options? You check your phone over and over again, texting your friends who ask “hows your date going?” and you just send them a simple :/ face. You glance up at him again, and Sollux is sitting down at the table just in front of the counter, on his phone and looking really focused on whatever’s on it.

“Dude, are you lost??” You tell him, halfway through your drink now. He makes a dismissive hand gesture at you that makes you bristle a little. Is this it? Is this what going on a date with a guy is like? No, not a guy, with _Sollux_ like? You’ve spent the last month or two keeping him up on his pedestal of amazing computer magician skills and thinking he’s so cool and funny and kind of cute and charming sometimes, and this is what it’s all amounted up to?

You move your straw through your drink as you zone out and think your angry and melancholic thoughts before speaking up to him again with an annoyed tone. “Do you need help, Sollux? It’s been like 15 fucking minutes, come _on_.” You shove him a little and he makes an agitated noise before replying,

“Oh my fucking god, Karkat can you fucking chill? Not all of us have been to this place 80,000 times, I don’t have to fucking order something if I don’t want to.”

It’s not like it’s rare that he yells at you, or that he gets angry and raises his voice some. But you’ve never been known to take that shit lying down. “Wow, fuck me, I’m so sorry, you’re right Sollux, this date of me sitting by myself off to the side, alone, without anyone talking to me while you stand in front of the fucking menu quietly has been really fucking lovely. I’ve enjoyed every fucking second of it. We should do this every weekend, where I sit _by myself_, in _silence_, with _no one to talk to_, and my date stands by with his thumbs in his ass and reads a fucking menu.” Your fingers are thumping angrily on the table next to you.

Sollux groans and makes this _are you kidding me_ face. “Get your fucking panties out of a twist, you had every opportunity to talk to me if you wanted someone to talk to, it’s not my responsibility to keep you entertained.”

“So it’s _my_ fault!?” People are definitely starting to stare at you as your face gets progressively hotter. The barista asks you to please calm down and it just pisses you off more. “No, I don’t think I will! I think I’ll continue to be angry and upset, but out of sheer goddamn politeness, I’ll take my anger somewhere else, and explode out into the sun in peace.” You chug what’s left of your drink and look your date in the eye. “And _you_.” You point to him. “Shittiest date ever. Don’t fucking text me when you get home.” You shove him with your shoulder as you leave the café. You catch a brief glimpse of his eyes rolling behind his glasses as you do.

You’re so mad, and you do want to explode into the sun. He really had the nerve to stand you up, right in front of you, didn’t he? It’s like he didn’t even know it was a date even though he was the one that put the word out there first.

The cold stings your face and you jam your hand into your pocket to get your keys. You parked a little ways off, but it doesn’t bother you. What bothers you is when you try to shove the key into the lock, you drop the whole clutch of them into the snow and dirt slurry and you just break apart.

You start to cry. 

You don’t pick your keys up right away, leaning your back against the car to just have a second before rubbing your eyes harshly.

“KK…” You hear a voice from a bit far off, sounding defeated but not really remorseful. Like he feels obligated to talk to you after being the shittiest shit to ever shit on your life. When he gets close enough for you to see his face and not just his silhouette, he sighs but says nothing. He’s shivering like he’s never been in the cold before.

“Save it, I don’t wanna hear a word from you.” You say, and it sounds like you’re crying, much to your detriment as you scoop up your keys.  
“I didn’t know it bothered you so much, I would’ve just—”

“I said _save it._ I was fucking excited about this and you ruined it.” You squeeze your arms as you cross them over your chest, continuing to try and yell at him but it only really comes out in sobbing stammers. He doesn’t look incredibly sympathetic, and you hate him for it.

“I really think you’re being a little overdramatic,” Sollux says, voice even-tempered and calm. You hate him so much for it.

“FUCK you, Sollux. I _like_ you. I really fucking like you. And you’re being a fucking…wiseass, smartass, shitfuck, you’re being an _everything_ that’s bad right now. I don’t wanna talk to you anymore, I’m done with this, I’m done with _you_. No more boyfriends, no more friend-friends. Done, adios!” As soon as the words leave you, you regret them, but you don’t really make a sign of letting him know that, just waiting for him to leave you alone.

There’s a beat of silence and he sighs again. “I’m sorry, KK. Alright? I’m sorry. I like you too, a lot, and I want to try this out. I can’t make any promises though. Like, I can’t promise I won’t piss you off or annoy you. It’s who I am. If you can’t handle that, then fine. That’s not my problem.”

His words don’t really sting. Of course, he can’t promise not to be a shithead. It’s not like he wasn’t a shithead when you were, the Sollux online wasn’t a completely different person from the one in the coffee shop. You just had different expectations of him. You thought putting him in a boyfriend colored filter would make him behave differently, but he doesn’t. He’s Sollux. Whether he’s your boyfriend or not. And you like Sollux.

You sniffle some, and you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or you crying, and you nod.  
He scoffs at you, “yeah?”  
You nod some more. “Yeah. Can we still be boyfriends.”  
“That’s up to you.”  
“I wanna still be boyfriends.”

As if part of some sick tie-in, Sollux sticks his hand out for you to shake it, as he did to you when you asked him out. You take the hand and give it a firm squeeze before yanking him forward into a hug. He’s all flailing limbs before bracing himself against you, and you squeeze him again, all around. He doesn’t resist though, chuckling in your hair.

You let him pull back some and just look at him for a minute. His features illuminated by the street lights and the moon across the night sky, the way his eyes light up in this angle, soft scoops of cheekbones, slop of his nose, and oh no, you're staring at his lips now aren’t you. You didn’t mean to, they were just right there, naturally placed near the bottom of his face and before you know it, you’re drawn in almost too fast to process the fact that you’re kissing him.

His lips feel cold for a second before quickly warming up against yours. You feel his hand slide into your thick curly hair, the other cradling your neck as your own hands stay firmly on his shallow waist. Even though the two of you are in a shitty parking lot next to a shitty cheap café and your face is freezing from the tears left on them, you can’t help but think this feels magical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know i have a tumblr where i post my crackheaded sollux and solkat content?  
follow me at steph-is-asleep


End file.
